


and it’s worth it, it’s divine (to have this some of the time)

by scarletite



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Biting, Bottom Adora, F/F, Oral Sex, Pre-Season 1, Referenced Kinks, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24519127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletite/pseuds/scarletite
Summary: “C’mon, Adora,” Catra chuckles, leaning down so she can press her face to the side of Adora’s, nibbling absently at her ear. “You know you want to.”“Here?”“Here,” Catra confirms, tugging on her earlobe—enough to make Adora jolt, whining softly. “If you think you can keep quiet this time.”“I think I can manage.”—Or, the one where Catra has bad ideas and Adora is has no choice but to indulge her.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 427





	and it’s worth it, it’s divine (to have this some of the time)

Adora wakes up to freezing feet and a body shuffling over top of her—in that order.

“Mmhn, no.”

A tail lashes, thumps from one side of the bed to the other. “C’mon.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“ _Adora_.”

Swallowing back a sleepy groan, Adora slowly opens her eyes. A mismatched pair stare back at her, an inch away. Catra’s breath is warm on her skin, and Adora absently notes she can count her freckles in the low light.

“What time is it?” Adora yawns.

“Doesn’t matter.” Catra shifts slightly higher, the whole length of her dragging up Adora’s body. Her blanket is paper thin, standard-issue, and the moment lights up every curve and dip.

“We’ve got training tomorrow—or, today, probably.”

“We have training every day,” Catra presses her forehead against Adora’s, a low rumble starting in her chest. “I’ve seen you run on less sleep than this, Cadet.”

For a moment, her entire world shrinks down to soft, warm skin and mismatched eyes. Catra’s low purrs vibrate against her chest, through her body. Adora looks up at her, unblinking. 

Her mouth opens, breath suddenly ragged, and she’s leaning forward—

And then, in the bunk across from theirs, Kyle lets out a sudden snore.

Adora jumps, sitting up suddenly and— _thwack._

“Ow! Adora!” Catra squeaks, sitting back and rubbing at her red forehead. “What’s your head made of, bricks? Ugh.”

Suddenly indignant, cheeks crimson, Adora shoves her shoulders. “Shut up! I got scared!”

“Such an idiot.”

Adora thumps dramatically back into her pillow, hair scattered messily around her. She presses her forearms over her eyes and pretends she’s not being straddled by her prickly best friend. “Goodnight, Catra.”

“Nooo,” Catra reaches out, grabs her arms and pulls them away. She presses them by the wrists up above Adora’s head and leans in once more. Her teeth flash in a wicked grin in the dim light. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Adora rolls her eyes, wriggling her hips to try and dislodge Catra. Which, probably the wrong move, because—

“Catra!” Adora’s voice comes out a little bit louder than she expects, a bit of a yelp. She struggles more now, swallowing back a throaty noise.

Unrepentant, Catra just squeezes her thighs tighter around Adora’s hips. Her arms, long but built with wiry muscle, press Adora’s wrists down tightly, claws digging softly. Behind them, Catra’s tail curls under her dislodged blanket, wrapping around Adora’s ankle.

Catra’s expression smoulders. “Relax, Adora.”

“Easy for you to say,” Adora grumbles, without heat. “You’re not being looked at like it’s dinner time and you’re the main course.”

Smirking, Catra leans in again, licking her lips. “Well, I could certainly use a _taste_.”

Adora’s stomach clenches tightly. “Catra—”

“C’mon, Adora,” Catra chuckles, leaning down so she can press her face to the side of Adora’s, nibbling absently at her ear. “You know you want to.”

“Here?”

Adora is deeply, keenly aware of the half-dozen other cadets around them. The snoring, soft breathing, the rustling of bodies. The Fright Zone is not a quiet place, even in the dead of night.

Despite an undeniable spark of thrill at the idea, Adora definitely _does not_ want to be caught like this. Doesn’t want the teasing, or the reprimand, or more importantly _Shadow Weaver’s_ punishment. She’s barely recovered from last month’s week long double training debacle, she really doesn’t want to be doing drills until she collapses again.

There’s a reason they usually keep this behaviour to closets and late-night showers. 

“Here,” Catra confirms, tugging on her earlobe—enough to make Adora jolt, whining softly. “If you think you can keep quiet this time.” 

It’s a challenge, obvious, telegraphed—

“I think I can manage.”

She’s always been an idiot.

The look Catra gives her in reply, as she slowly drags her nose and lips up Adora’s cheek, is positively _predatory._ She slants their mouths together with a hungry grin.

Adora falls into the feel of it. Catra’s mouth is warm, her canines sharp, and she knows exactly how to make Adora’s head spin. She bites at Adora’s bottom lip, the resulting gasp all she needs to slip her tongue inside.

“You’re evil,” Adora pants, when they pull apart, lips shiny.

“Uh, yeah.” Catra presses the full weight of her body back down against her, her wild hair blocking them in like a curtain; her entire world narrows down to bright eyes and sensation. “Guilty as charged.”

A groan builds in Adora’s throat, a notch lower, as Catra squeezes her caught wrists tighter for a moment. “We’re going to get in so much trouble,” Adora sighs. “If I’m doing burpees until I vomit again, you’re holding my hair back.”

Catra just laughs. “Just remember: _quiet._ ”

“Yeah.” They both know Adora’s the opposite. “Quiet. I can do that.”

Adora tugs at the hands around her wrists for a moment, until Catra relinquishes her hold with a reluctant huff. In the lowlight, she spots little red spots—nail marks—around her wrists. She sighs, thankful that her uniform is long-sleeved.

When Adora pushes at Catra, the girl is even more reluctant to move, until Adora makes to pull the blanket from between them. “If we’re doing this, I am _not_ doing this where anyone can see. Get under.”

Catra flashes her a look that’s nothing short of _heated_. “But we both know that turns you on—”

“Shut up!” Adora hisses, dragging Catra in by her collar and throwing the blanket up around them like a tent. Her face burns. “We agreed not to talk about that!”

“You suggested we not,” Catra reminds her, folding her arms over Adora’s stomach and looking up at her. Her eyes glow in the darkness cast by the blanket. “I agreed to nothing.”

Adora runs her hands down her face, ignoring the thrilled flip-flopping somewhere inside of her. “Just, shut up. Don’t talk about it.”

Catra chuckles, throatier this time. She hooks her fingers under the edge of Adora’s shirt, runs her nails and her palms upwards and bringing her shirt with it. “We’re totally going to talk about it eventually. Even if I have to drag it out of you— _publicly._ ”

Her stomach muscles clench, and Adora will go to her grave swearing it’s the touch and not the words—even if the snickering from below clearly indicates Catra isn’t a believer. 

“Please, just—”

Adora doesn’t get more than halfway through the request before she aborts it, because her shirt is pushed to her neck and there’s a set of teeth toying with one nipple and claws on the other. It’s sharp and soft and warm and _oh god, she needs to be quiet._

Pressing one hand over her own mouth to abort the soft moan, the other buries itself in Catra’s thick mane of hair. She tugs, almost without thinking about it. The purr that Catra gives in response, as she tongues at the soft peak of her chest, makes Adora bite her own fingers to keep it in.

“Careful, Princess,” Catra murmurs, releasing one nipple to give the other a little attention. 

The nickname is a tease, a combination of a taunt and a rude reminder. Because Princesses, as every good Horde cadet knows, are wickedly dangerous—Catra says her propensity for sleep-fighting and fierce right-hooks comes from being a Princess in a past life. But also, Adora tends to hand over control _way_ too easily, and Catra loves to purr the word _pillow princess_ at her just to get to see her cheeks turn red.

Adora doesn’t dignify her with a response, just curls her hand tighter in Catra’s hair, the way she refuses to admit she likes. She pulls her closer, a silent request.

Catra is attuned to her, more than Adora likes to think about or admit. Enough to know to release her right nipple with a pop and a small, soothing lick. Then, she moves to the crevice between her breasts, focusing on sucking and lapping at her sweat-spotted skin. 

“Ah,” Adora hisses between her teeth, as Catra moves slowly up, sucking a particularly large spot right at the dip of her shoulder.

Ordinarily, Adora would tell her off—she can hide marks on her chest and collar with towels and bras, but her _shoulder?—_ but it feels too good, and the nip of inhumanly sharp canines steals her breath away.

“Harder,” Adora whispers, ignoring the fact that she’s going to have to arrange her hair around her shoulder while showering for at least a week. 

Catra’s eyes sharpen, lip quirking against her skin. “Freak,” she laughs.

Adora’s red from cheeks to chest, but she doesn’t care. She pushes Catra to her shoulder with the hand on the back of her head. “Please.”

One to mess around, delay, tease, but never to _deny_ , Catra obeys. 

Her gasping, desperate groan is only stifled by her biting into her own knuckle.

At her shoulder, teeth pressed into the soft skin hard enough to bruise, to mark, Catra lets out a rumbling moan of her own. She presses her teeth harder, a fraction of an inch. It’s enough to leave them both shuddering, a tail curling tightly around an inner thigh.

Even after Catra releases, licking and kissing the already-darkening skin, it takes a moment for Adora to remember how to breathe.

“Oh,” she shivers, whimpers, when Catra leans up to place a soft kiss to her chin, then follows up with a love bite. “Mmn.”

With one more press to Adora’s lips this time, pausing briefly to tangle their tongues and taste her panting breath, Catra begins to slink back down her body. 

“I’ll never get sick of hearing you make those sounds,” Catra purrs, lapping at the curve of Adora’s belly button, laughing when the muscles jump.

She releases her knuckle from her mouth, the marks throbbing in time to the one in her shoulder. It is going to hurt like hell in the morning. But, Adora can’t bring herself to regret it. Her brain is melting, she feels floaty and buzzing, blood roaring in her ears.

“Keep going,” Adora pleads, as the tongue slips down and plays at the lowest part of her navel; licks a stripe above the hem of her pants. “Please, Catra.”

“So desperate, for someone who didn’t want to play along ten minutes ago,” Catra hums, claws running along the edge of her waistband. “You sure, Adora? Not too late to go to bed.”

“I will literally kill you,” Adora huffs. “I’ll turn you into a catskin rug.”

A shine comes to Catra’s eyes. “Oh, sexually frustrated Adora is back. She’s scary. My _favourite_.”

Adora breathes out, a tense hiss from between her teeth. “Catra, if you stop—”

“Quiet, Princess,” Catra hooks her fingers in, drags Adora’s pants and underwear quickly down her thighs. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Even beneath the cover of her thin blanket, Adora can still feel the sudden swell of cold air as Catra shoves her pants down below her knees. Not the most graceful or dignified option, but, well, they’re doing this in a shared barracks, so—Adora will forgive it.

“Hold my hair,” Catra commands, settling between her thighs.

“Hold your—” It takes her a moment to understand what Catra’s getting at. But then warm arms take hold of her thighs, drag her forcibly down, until warm breath falls against the place she wants it most. “R-Right! Hold your hair!”

As commanded, although the angle is awkward, Adora gathers as much of Catra’s hair as she can between her shaking hands. She curls them tight, knuckles bone-white. All the while, Catra kisses and nips at the soft skin of her inner thighs, left then right. 

“Remember: keep it down,” Catra purrs, eyes slicing up to catch Adora’s as she lowers her head. 

It takes all of Adora’s focus and self-restraint to swallow the thick moan, as Catra begins to work her clit with her tongue; no preamble, no foreplay, just straight to it. The slight roughness of her tongue is enough to catch and drag on the hood, and the feel of it directly on the nerves is almost enough to make her sob.

“Catra, Catra, oh god—”

Adora is chanting mindless, useless things, over and over. She takes it up like a mantra, whispers croaking from her lips in a deep, throaty manner. She’s kneading at Catra’s hair now, pulling and tugging, not sure if she wants her closer or to shy away from the intensity.

Catra, addicted to the sounds she makes, only doubles down. 

Adora is wet, so much so that it makes obscene sounds when Catra—claws retracted until they’re nothing but stubs—slips her fingers inside. First one, which makes her legs tremble, and then a second, which makes her thigh muscles close over Catra’s head.

She looks down, unable to help herself. 

Her tongue still working, cheeks slick with wetness and fingers beginning to move and curl and twist, Catra looks right back. Her eyes glow, narrowed in concentration but sharp and focused.

Powerless to the growing coil inside, Adora’s hips rock of their own accord. 

“That’s it,” Catra purrs between licks.

Adora lets one hand fall from Catra’s hair, bringing it up to cover her mouth. She’s panting, gasping, all her concentration focused on swallowing back the moans. Her entire body buzzes, climbing higher and faster with every touch, lick, bite, _claw_.

With a hook of her fingers, Catra closes in on a spot inside of her that makes Adora see stars. She whines, low and wrecked. 

“There it is,” Catra smiles, like the cat who got the cream—which, is suddenly filthy, because she sucks and licks at her greedily, chin _coated_ in Adora. “Go on, Princess.”

Adora falls apart like this:

A sharp twist of two fingers, dragging inside—

The lap of a tongue, circling her clit—

A free hand, claws loose, biting into her inner thigh—

And a certain name muffled by a fist buried between her teeth—

“ _Catr-ahh_.”

There is blood on her tongue, that’s the first thing Adora notices, once the haze fades. 

“Shit, Adora,” Catra mutters, dragging Adora’s pants up and her shirt down. “You okay?”

She feels positively blissed out, dreamy; like she’s an inch to the left of her body, and not quite tangible. “Mm, grrreat.”

Crawling up her front, Catra takes the hand from Adora’s mouth. “Such an idiot. You’re a mess.”

Adora blinks unsteadily up, smiling. “I know.”

“It’s not too bad,” Catra says, working her thumbs over Adora’s knuckle. She coaxes her hand open and closed, seemingly pleased by the range of motion. There’s not too much blood, either, just deep indents and the slightest hint of crimson. “It’ll look pretty ugly in the morning, though. Better come up with a good lie.”

She breathes deep and slow, in through her mouth and out through her nose. The air is hot and warm, thick with her own smell, pressed in by the blanket around them. “I’ll think of something.”

Catra lets Adora’s hand go, absently wiping her face with her forearm and then licking the evidence away with a light purr. “Mm, totally worth it.”

“You don’t want me to…?”

Catra’s tail tickles across her thighs, comes up to brush her bruised lips. “Nah, I’m good.” Her eyes are bright, mischievous. “Public stuff is your fetish, not mine.”

“Wha—you— _Catra!”_

“I’ll take a raincheck.” She slants her lips across Adora’s, the musky taste of sex on her tongue. Adora doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back, even though she grumbles.

All the annoyance drains out of Adora, replaced by a soft, pleased sigh. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

Catra pulls away with a smile, dragging the blanket from around their heads. “Pfft, I can’t kill you. I’d die of brain rot after three days if these idiots were all I had.”

“Charming,” Adora smiles. “You and me against the world, right?”

Something shifts in Catra’s eyes, the softness she reserves only for Adora. “Yeah,” she reaches out, runs her hands through Adora’s hair to try and smooth it back into some semblance of order. “Us against the world.”

Adora can’t help it, she yawns. “First step of world domination: sleep.”

“Roger that, Force Captain,” Catra gives a cheeky salute, making to stalk back down to the foot of the bed.

Before Catra can do more than half-slide off her, Adora grabs her wrist. “Sleep up here?”

She hesitates. “Adora—”

“Please?”

A silent war passes between their eyes, then a quick glance around the barracks—it’s still as the dead, except for the soft snores and heavy breathing. No witnesses.

“Okay,” Catra concedes. “Just—for a little bit.”

The smile Adora gives her back is soft, breathtaking. “Just a little.”

“Shuffle over.”

Obediently, Adora rolls onto her side; the bed is a single, a tight fit for two fully grown girls. Catra adjusts herself until she’s pressed flush behind her. She curls up along her back, knees tucked into the back of Adora’s, tail around her ankle, forehead between her shoulder blades. 

“Goodnight.”

Adora whispers back. “Night, Catra.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one night, no editing—the subtitle for this should be ‘author exposes her own kinks’.


End file.
